Cheesie Mack Is Not a Genius or Anything
Language: English
Pages: 240
ISBN: 037586394X
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"Cheesie Mack is a true original." —Gordon Korman, bestselling author of Swindle and Schooled
Ronald "Cheesie" Mack is not a genius or anything, but he remembers everything that happened before, during, and after fifth-grade graduation, and he's written it all down in his own unique and hilarious way—with lots of lists, drawings, and splenderful (that's splendid plus wonderful!) made-up words.
Cheesie—with a little help from Steve Cotler—writes about family, friendship, and tough choices in an unforgettable voice that will have kids laughing out loud. Readers of Diary of a Wimpy Kid will love both the clever humor and the black-and-white illustrations throughout.
and pulled me outside. “I’ve got a plan,” he told me. He was staring at me with a lot of determination in his eyes. “We cannot give that VDB coin to Mrs. Prott.” “Ms. Prott.” “Whatever.” He put both hands in his hair and rubbed really hard, then took a big breath. “When we thought that penny was worth ninety-five dollars, and we planned to go to Six Flags, I was willing to give it up and lose a day at an amusement park. That was bad, but this is ridiculous! Twenty-two hundred dollars! I could
there.” Even though we were alone, Georgie lowered his voice like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “If we could read it, we’d know where the rest of the treasure is buried.” He touched the postmark. “Probably in California.” I took the envelope from Georgie and pointed at the stamp. “Probably in the bottom of a stream with a bunch of king salmon jumping all around,” I teased. Georgie tried to get me into a headlock, but I squirgled out of his grip and jumped away. (There is actually no such
there.” Even though we were alone, Georgie lowered his voice like he didn’t want anyone else to hear. “If we could read it, we’d know where the rest of the treasure is buried.” He touched the postmark. “Probably in California.” I took the envelope from Georgie and pointed at the stamp. “Probably in the bottom of a stream with a bunch of king salmon jumping all around,” I teased. Georgie tried to get me into a headlock, but I squirgled out of his grip and jumped away. (There is actually no such
stared at it. “I can’t read it,” Georgie mumbled. “I think,” I whispered, “it says ‘EUREKA.’ ” I couldn’t help whispering. If you’re doing something like making invisible old words reappear, you just automatically get quiet. I could tell from Georgie’s expression that he didn’t know the word EUREKA. “It means,” I said, “something like ‘hooray’ or ‘yippee.’ My dad says you yell it when you find something.” “Like treasure,” he said very softly. Someone said “Whoa” again, and I’m pretty sure
lasted for a long time. Here’s what the noise of my thinking sounded like: Georgie was really mad. But he didn’t sound a bit sad or afraid. I think dying would make him sad and afraid. So I figured he didn’t have cancer or Ebola or stuff. Maybe we weren’t friends anymore. But why would his father say he had bad news? It didn’t make sense. That left just one possibility: I was pretty sure Georgie was moving away. Georgie sniffed again, loud, and then said a word six times in a row that the